


if strangers meet

by CoraClavia



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:59:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5458994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraClavia/pseuds/CoraClavia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little moments at the consulate. Early season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if strangers meet

**Author's Note:**

> Meg Thatcher's a frustrating character. Sometimes, she's flat, static, the worst of 90's TV writing for a "strong woman" (read: bitchy for no reason, all the time). But then sometimes - like in ATQH - she's interesting, dynamic, and so much more compelling. If only she'd been written more consistently.

Meg leaned back in her chair, pulling off her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. There was a headache forming just over her right eye. Travel issues. Travel issues never ended.

She looked up to see Fraser’s wolfdog sitting in front of the half-open door, staring at her fixedly. She hadn’t even heard him come in.

Meg was about to put away her reading glasses when she remembered that this was just a wolfdog, not some elite spy.

“What?”

Diefenbaker cocked his head, blinking at her for a few moments, but before she could figure out what to do, he trotted off, tail waving high.

She put her glasses back on and went back to the paperwork, grumbling quietly over travel documents. The minister from Québec, a gruff old man who had to be about eight hundred years old, steadfastly refused to send her anything in English. She spoke French, but having to constantly switch from French to English to French again between Guillaume and the American hosts she was working with was wearing. Meg wasn’t a translator.

A long week of busy evenings and tense meetings was catching up to her, and Meg couldn’t stop her eyes from drooping. She dropped her glasses on the desk, taking a deep breath. She could get coffee, but at the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to move. Maybe just shutting her eyes for a few minutes would -

She woke to a cold nose on her ankle.

“Diefenbaker!” she yelped, her pulse skyrocketing. “Please don’t - oh.”

The wolfdog let out a soft huff that sounded almost like a sneeze, depositing a granola bar on her lap. Meg picked it up, staring in wonder. She kept them stashed in the kitchen, only reaching for one when she missed lunch. How did the dog even know? - and how did he know how to get them out?

“Thank you,” she said slowly, not sure why she felt the need to thank an animal. But there was a strangely keen look on his eyes. He seemed more human than not.

Diefenbaker trotted up, nosing his way under her hand, and she slowly scratched the soft fur between his ears. He let out a pleased whine. As wary as she tended to be around wild animals, she had to admit, he was a beautiful wolf.

“Sometimes I think you understand everything I’m saying,” she murmured. “You’re as odd as your owner, you know that?”

Diefenbaker blinked at her.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever understand him.”

She could swear the dog smiled at her.

“But at least you seem harmless.”

“Diefenbaker?” Fraser’s voice floated through the consulate. “Diefenbaker!”

Wasn’t the wolf deaf? - although, Meg supposed, perhaps he might recognize vibrations of a familiar voice. “In here, Constable.”

She was fairly sure she heard him mutter _Oh, dear_ as he hurried in, hat in hand, face mortified. “Inspector, I apologize - he’s been strictly instructed never to come in here, and I’m sure -”

“It’s all right,” she cut him off, waving a hand. “He actually brought me this.” She held up the granola bar. “He must have realized I was hungry.”

“Oh.” Fraser stopped short at that, clearly not sure how to respond. His eyes darted between her and the dog, and she watched him lick his lips absently. “I hope he isn’t making a nuisance of himself.”

“I don’t mind.”

Fraser looked surprised at that. After that fiasco with her brooch, he’d been fastidious about never even looking too hard at her office without knocking.

In retrospect, she might have been overreacting the day she’d ordered him to stay out. He’d returned a priceless family jewel, something she could never have replaced. And she’d been mortified to feel the warmth in her veins, the flush rising in her cheeks. So she’d banned him from her office, because she instinctively knew the danger in letting him get too close, literally and figuratively.

In Ottawa, she’d watched a good friend’s career skydive for sleeping with the wrong coworker. And she’d never forgotten it.

“Where did you get him?”

Fraser blinked for a moment, looking bewildered, and Meg realized: she’d never really showed interest in his life before.

That hurt.

“He found me, actually. Up north, on an ice floe.”

“An ice floe?”

“That’s how he lost his hearing. He saved my life.”

Meg looked down to find Diefenbaker sniffing her shoes curiously. “I didn’t realize.”

“He’s the most loyal companion you could imagine.” Fraser was looking at the dog, not at her, with a soft fondness on his face that made her smile.

“He’s very well-trained.”

“Thank you, Inspector.” The constable nodded. “And I’m terribly sorry. Usually he’s much more respectful of people who are _not to be interrupted_ -” he stared pointedly at Diefenbaker, who had the good grace to look abashed - “and I will make sure he refrains from bothering you.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Fraser.” Meg scratched Dief’s ears. “As long as you keep him out of trouble, he’s fine.”

“Understood, ma’am.” Fraser pointed at Diefenbaker. “Dief. Come here.”

The wolf slinked away, glancing back at Meg before trotting out the door in front of Fraser.

* * *

Meg had discovered, back in Ottawa, that the key to fitting into that red serge every time she needed it was keeping as active as possible. Her schedule was usually a hectic mess, but when she got a lunch hour, she tried to use her chance to stretch her legs.

On her way to the front door, she paused at Fraser’s office, peering inside the half-open door. As usual, he was at his desk, paging through whatever report she had ordered him to review now.

“Fraser?”

He bolted upright, narrowly avoiding cracking his knee on the desk. “Ma’am?”

“I - was going to go out for a walk,” she started, feeling slightly foolish. “Do you think - would Diefenbaker like to come? - just to get some exercise?”

Fraser looked startled, but he simply looked down at Diefenbaker.

“What do you think, Dief? Would you like to go outside with the Inspector?”

Meg held her breath, but the wolf yipped and leapt to his feet, trotting over to nudge her hand with his nose.

“It looks like a yes,” Fraser commented dryly. “Dief. Dief - behave yourself.”

Diefenbaker let out an indignant huff, circling around Meg before heading for the hallway.

“Inspector - thank you. It’s good for him to get outside. I appreciate it.”

She nodded slowly, a weight in her chest dissolving. She didn’t understand Benton Fraser.

But maybe it was possible, after all.


End file.
